


4am Sharp

by Temaris



Series: Coming Apart [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Kind of voyeurism, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge 2016, PWP, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 09:38:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6900691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Temaris/pseuds/Temaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s no damn privacy in the Haus.  If you want some, you better plan carefully. So Bitty wakes up early to get some personal time. There's a plus side to this; he’s not huge fan of schedules, but he can track Jack’s to the second. </p><p>One of two related snippets that got written back to back, because it is May, and what is the merry month of May without jacking off? (pun intended).</p>
            </blockquote>





	4am Sharp

Bitty doesn't often miss the dorms, but he liked the quiet anonymity of his own little room, far away from anyone who knew or cared what he might be doing behind closed doors. Sure, he can lock his door here, just -- the second he does, everyone wants to know why, or just guesses why and chirps him endlessly. And he just -- he can't. 

He kind of hates that he keeps ending up in this uncomfortable, ill-fitting box, out, but not too out. He looks at Shitty sometimes and wonders what it would be like to get to -- be who you are all the time. Tall, rich hockey players get to do that. He knows better. He knows how to be silent, how to take his happiness where he finds it (be discreet, don’t hurt anyone, don’t be a bother). He wants...

And look, if he's going to have to deal with checking practice and a 4 am start and Jack Zimmermann’s everything, then he reckons he’s gonna have to have a little something for himself. So. He's gotten used to waking up a half hour or so early. He’s allowed this. 

Señor Bunny has flopped over onto his chest and Bitty sets him down out of the way, face turned towards the wall so he can’t watch. Washing a plushie is no fun at all, he looks weird and misshapen and stays damp for days. Worse, there's this look in Señor Bunny's eyes -- how the boys would chirp him for this -- but he just... nope.

It’s still dark. The Haus is so quiet that he can hear the floors relaxing, creaking under ghostly footsteps. There’s the distant drip of water somewhere. Cars in the distance. Jack’s alarm clock. And Jack, stumbling out of bed. Bitty smiles. Here we go, he thinks.

He curls into his pillow and tucks his hand into his shorts with a happy little hum. He’s snug and warm, and his hand is cold, but he kind of likes the shock of it, and the melting feeling in his muscles as his fingers warm up. He’s got a good fifteen minutes before he has to get out of bed, and he’s on a schedule now. 

He gently squeezes his thighs around his hand, warming it, and rocks easily, rubbing into the mattress, balls and shaft moving sweet and soft in his hand, then slowly swelling up. Warmth prickles up his back, tightens his gut and he smiles again. It feels so good, just stroking lightly, just his fingers -- they feel rough, callused and strong on his dick. 

It feels a little different every time. Today, he’s happy, uncoiling lazily into arousal and wakefulness, listening to Jack putter around getting dressed in the room across from his, and he presses his face into his pillow, smiles hugely, his eyes squeezed closed. He switches hands; left handed feels like a stranger, awkward and unfamiliar. It’s like he feels more in his dick, less in his hand, he doesn't know why, but it feels good; feels like someone else. Lets him imagine it might be someone else (Jack. It’s Jack. Of course it’s Jack. Jack, glowering at him, grumbling about too much singing and not enough protein, all pale blue eyes and beetling eyebrows. Jack)

He smirks a little. Plenty of protein coming *right* up, Mr Zimmermann, he thinks, and ducks his head under the blankets to lick his palm, then picks up the pace. He slides his thumb over the tip of his dick, lingers on the slit, working the slow leaking liquid there into his skin.

Jack's phone goes off a second time. The chimes are loud in the wooden walled Haus, and Bitty gathers his balls in his right hand, gently squeezes and rolls them, loving the way they slide inside their little sacks. A toilet flushes, a light clicks off, and Bitty slips his hand further down, nudging lightly at his taint. He chokes back a moan as pleasure spikes in his gut, swells. Jack's bedroom door clicks shut and Bitty is already arching up, hips working without any input from him, and he tenses, waiting --

"Bittle?" Jack's voice comes through the door, low enough to not disturb the rest of the Haus, clear enough to wake Bitty. If he was asleep. “Are you up?”

"Five minutes, Jack," he calls back, practiced at making this sound like he's just woken, and presses down firmly on his taint. Damn. His orgasm hits perfectly, and he's melting down into the mattress and listening to Jack say,

"I'll see you downstairs."

“’kay,” he mumbles back, and listens to Jack head downstairs. Bitty wriggles delightedly in bed. In five minutes he'll have cleaned himself up, gotten dressed and be downstairs. It’s not gonna be weird because it will never happen, and he knows it. He’s used to it. Straight boys. He sighs and rolls out of bed, mood gone.

Still. it’s a new day. And downstairs, Jack’s waiting for him with a couple of mugs of coffee and a gentle chirp about slugabeds, and hey, he’s actually kinda looking forward to it.


End file.
